Posted by: cliffette
« on: September 23, 2004, 04:45:10 AM »Of all the smells she might have expected to wake up to, smoked ham was not one of them. But there was no denying the homely, heartening scent filling her nostrils. She opened her eyes to a slit and registered an a bright glow in front of her. A fire, she assumed, although she still felt as if she was lying in an icy puddle. Her eyes focused slowly. Definitely a fire, although its crackling sounded muted and muffled.
Although she didn't consider herself experienced in wound management, she knew that it would be foolish to move at all. Even lying still, her bones felt as if they were grinding to dust beneath her own weight and her face might as well have swollen to twice its size, considering how tender it felt. She would not have been able to open her eyes further even if she had wanted to.
A warm trickle of water from her still-wet hair ran down over her icy cheek, causing her to shudder, which set off a new round of aches that shrieked their way from her shins up to her jaw, before exploding into red lightning between her ears. The two ruffians had certainly done a number on her. And all for the few coins in her purse. She would have snorted in disgust had she not feared the effect this would have on her body.
Muted footsteps on the floor that vibrated through her protesting body told her that someone was coming toward her. A shadow interposed itself between her and the fire, and a thumb interposed itself between her brow and lash, painfully dragging open an eyelid.
The alarmingly large face before her was distinctly dwarfish. Grizzly grey facial hair abounded and a gold tooth glimmered in his mouth as he spoke, "You're awake then."
Seemingly satisfied, the dwarf sat back on his haunches and fixed her with an intense stare. "I'll make no bones about it, girl. You were attacked, beaten and likely intefered with, by who I don't know. I found you slumped and half unclothed in an alleyway. Be glad your skin's so white, else I would not have seen you, and you'd be dying about now. Not that you might not be dying anyhow."
The sound of water droplets nearby told her he was wringing out a cloth, a fact confirmed as the dwarf proceeded to dab at her face with what passed for gentleness. The first touch of the hot cloth burned against her skin. "You're badly beaten and bleeding in a dozen places. You'll have a nasty cold and that'll probably carry you off. You've been sleeping since you got here and that would have been for about the last three hours. And you're still cold to touch." To emphasise his point, he lay a hand on her bare shoulder. From the contrast between the temperatures of their flesh, his stumpy hand might as well have been heated in a forge beforehand.
"Not to worry. I'll cook a broth for you. It'll burn you up on the inside as it goes down, but that's what's needed here. You concentrate on living, girl. You've had a bad shock to your system, but you're safe now. And I don't feel like digging a grave this evening." The dwarf paused from wiping her face and twitched a shoulder toward a corner of the room. "If you're wondering, what's left of your pack is drying over yonder. Nothing left though. Might as well throw it in the fire for all the good it'll do for you now. Green adventurers, travelling solo, pah!" He dropped the towel into the water with a loud splash and stood up.
"I'll be making that broth now. Don't you fall asleep til it's in you, girl!" He turned and trudged off a pace before he turned back. A stumpy finger waved inches from her face. "One more thing before I go, girl. If I'm the last person you ever see, the better to know my name. You're in the house of Tomtom Dorrin." The crinkly face became genial for a moment before it settled back into a series of stoic creases and folds. "And what's your name, girl? I need something to write on your gravestone."
It would hurt to speak, but she'd try anyway. It came out a shade above a whisper, though the throbbing in her jaw increased to a scream.
Tomtom frowned, "What was that again, girl?"
It hurt a little less this time. "Albeth. Albeth Brackwater."
The dwarf nodded, his fingers rubbing at his jaw as he fixed her with another intense stare. "Then Albeth it is. I'll be off to make that broth now, lass." He stumped away.
The heat from the towel seemed to be slowly leaving her. She kept her eyes open and fixed on the fire. Closing them would just bring back the faces of the thugs and she didn't want to think of that now. Instead, she concentrated on her new name and tried to disregard the clammy feeling that was once again spreading across her body. She hoped Tomtom would be back soon.
~~~~~
All right, that didn't take it anywhere interesting. But there was no Tuxedo involvement.
Although she didn't consider herself experienced in wound management, she knew that it would be foolish to move at all. Even lying still, her bones felt as if they were grinding to dust beneath her own weight and her face might as well have swollen to twice its size, considering how tender it felt. She would not have been able to open her eyes further even if she had wanted to.
A warm trickle of water from her still-wet hair ran down over her icy cheek, causing her to shudder, which set off a new round of aches that shrieked their way from her shins up to her jaw, before exploding into red lightning between her ears. The two ruffians had certainly done a number on her. And all for the few coins in her purse. She would have snorted in disgust had she not feared the effect this would have on her body.
Muted footsteps on the floor that vibrated through her protesting body told her that someone was coming toward her. A shadow interposed itself between her and the fire, and a thumb interposed itself between her brow and lash, painfully dragging open an eyelid.
The alarmingly large face before her was distinctly dwarfish. Grizzly grey facial hair abounded and a gold tooth glimmered in his mouth as he spoke, "You're awake then."
Seemingly satisfied, the dwarf sat back on his haunches and fixed her with an intense stare. "I'll make no bones about it, girl. You were attacked, beaten and likely intefered with, by who I don't know. I found you slumped and half unclothed in an alleyway. Be glad your skin's so white, else I would not have seen you, and you'd be dying about now. Not that you might not be dying anyhow."
The sound of water droplets nearby told her he was wringing out a cloth, a fact confirmed as the dwarf proceeded to dab at her face with what passed for gentleness. The first touch of the hot cloth burned against her skin. "You're badly beaten and bleeding in a dozen places. You'll have a nasty cold and that'll probably carry you off. You've been sleeping since you got here and that would have been for about the last three hours. And you're still cold to touch." To emphasise his point, he lay a hand on her bare shoulder. From the contrast between the temperatures of their flesh, his stumpy hand might as well have been heated in a forge beforehand.
"Not to worry. I'll cook a broth for you. It'll burn you up on the inside as it goes down, but that's what's needed here. You concentrate on living, girl. You've had a bad shock to your system, but you're safe now. And I don't feel like digging a grave this evening." The dwarf paused from wiping her face and twitched a shoulder toward a corner of the room. "If you're wondering, what's left of your pack is drying over yonder. Nothing left though. Might as well throw it in the fire for all the good it'll do for you now. Green adventurers, travelling solo, pah!" He dropped the towel into the water with a loud splash and stood up.
"I'll be making that broth now. Don't you fall asleep til it's in you, girl!" He turned and trudged off a pace before he turned back. A stumpy finger waved inches from her face. "One more thing before I go, girl. If I'm the last person you ever see, the better to know my name. You're in the house of Tomtom Dorrin." The crinkly face became genial for a moment before it settled back into a series of stoic creases and folds. "And what's your name, girl? I need something to write on your gravestone."
It would hurt to speak, but she'd try anyway. It came out a shade above a whisper, though the throbbing in her jaw increased to a scream.
Tomtom frowned, "What was that again, girl?"
It hurt a little less this time. "Albeth. Albeth Brackwater."
The dwarf nodded, his fingers rubbing at his jaw as he fixed her with another intense stare. "Then Albeth it is. I'll be off to make that broth now, lass." He stumped away.
The heat from the towel seemed to be slowly leaving her. She kept her eyes open and fixed on the fire. Closing them would just bring back the faces of the thugs and she didn't want to think of that now. Instead, she concentrated on her new name and tried to disregard the clammy feeling that was once again spreading across her body. She hoped Tomtom would be back soon.
~~~~~
All right, that didn't take it anywhere interesting. But there was no Tuxedo involvement.